


This Hungry Old Sea

by Sunchales



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Alien Sex, Alien genitalia, D/s, Friends to Lovers, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Psychic Communication, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunchales/pseuds/Sunchales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dagon's first meeting with Cthulhu leads to an eternity-spanning relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Hungry Old Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



> Cthulhu, Dagon, the Deep Ones, the Cthulhu spawn, and the star-headed Old Ones are in the public domain. Early anthropoids are, of course, real.
> 
> The author of this fic does not condone befriending someone for the purpose of having sex with them. These characters have ethics alien to our own (they are Lovecraftian monsters, after all).
> 
> This story involves a fertilization that you might read as male pregnancy. The narration intentionally avoids assigning a gender or physical sex to Cthulhu--HPL did write that "Cthulhu is a he, not a she," but you have to wonder how Cthulhu has all those spawn.
> 
> With apologies to H. P. Lovecraft.

**I.**  
The lord of the Deep Ones poked his head out from the murk of his seaweed-encrusted grotto. Before him, a hard-shelled nautilus propelled itself through the water—until the creature in the cave reached out and crushed it with his sinewy hand. He opened wide his maw and thrust the smashed cephalopod inside, savoring its tender and salty flesh as he chewed it, shell and all. With the hapless invertebrate’s blue blood dripping from his lips and releasing a barely perceptible cloud into the water, Dagon arched itself into a virtually horizontal position and swam off in search of more food.

The morning’s search proved fruitful, for he found entire schools of fish too stupid to avoid their capture in his mouth. Along the way, Dagon encountered multiple members of the clan he ruled over, and all of them paid their proper respect, with some even nuzzling him as he swam by. With one, he engaged in a strangely amiable conversation, during which time he revealed his recent plans and learned the news of his lackeys’ latest doings. The briny depths, he said, provided him with such comfort and wonder that he rarely wanted to emerge from them, but he felt a vague tugging of the memories of his creation on shore that spurred him to investigate the land above. Perhaps the spiraling rocks that towered to the heavens still boasted the aloof star-headed masters of Earth and the Deep Ones’ furry inferiors that screamed and bled as they bore offspring. Why the creators of life had decided to concoct a species that could only reproduce by the most loathsome method possible, rather than by budding or laying eggs, struck Dagon as odd. The planet’s alien masters must have fallen under the vagaries of whimsy and cruelty. Certainly they had exhibited enough of those qualities when they created Dagon’s kind. Lately, some of the Deep Ones had taken to mating with the air-breathers, and more than once a subordinate of Dagon’s had crawled upon the rocks to give birth to a hybrid infant or filled one of the primates’ bellies with the raw materials for such a creation. Despite this other race’s obvious pathetic weakness in light of their progenitor species’ superiority, Dagon felt a sense of pride and gladness whenever one of these half-breeds transformed into a full-blown Deep One—it meant an addition to his kind’s numbers and a subtraction from the rock-dwellers’.

The smaller amphibian separated from him, and Dagon continued swimming upward until he breathed the damp air and saw the towers of naturally hewn stone. He briefly considered diving back down so he could breach and thereby make an impressive entrance.

But when he looked upon the rocks that stretched up into the blood-red sky, he saw no audience that could possibly appreciate such a performance. Neither the piping makers of life on Earth nor the hair-covered subspecies of the Deep Ones dotted the black spiraling stones. Instead, a gelatinous green ball of fat with membraneous wings, four legs, six red eyes, and a mass of squirming tentacles sprawled on the plateau into which the spiral terminated, glowering at the space in front of and all around it. Rolling waves crashed into the base of the rocky tower, making the image before even more arresting. 

Dagon had never seen anything more enticing in his life. This picture of majesty heated a fire in his icy blood. He swam up to the foundation of the rock and began to ascend its height, delectating in the water and green slime flowing down the sides. As he climbed the spiral, grabbing onto the ridges that air-breathers had previously inhabited, he felt the invisible tugging at his will grow stronger, as though he could not bear to plunge back into the ocean now that this glorious creature had presented Itself.

Finally, he crawled up to the top of the rock and flung his body in front of the magnificent intruder’s. He rolled over, displaying his belly, and wriggled in the puddle of slime that trickled from beneath the red-eyed entity. Surely the other god—for It must be a god—could not help but interpret this gesture as one of submission.

Rather than the conjoining of bodies Dagon hoped would ensue, the larger creature responded with what felt like laughter. The green one did not vocalize; rather, Dagon perceived this mockery on a noiseless current—a frequency of the mind. He wondered if that meant that the other god could discern Dagon’s lustful intentions without being told.

Rather than receiving a response to that query, the winged god communicated to Dagon that Its name was Cthulhu, that It had come from another planet to conquer Earth, and that It initially opposed the star-headed ones who created Dagon’s kind but eventually reached an agreement with them. Moreover, by appearing to Cthulhu in a submissive position, Dagon had offered himself as a slave to Cthulhu—but not a disposable chattel with no privileges. Instead, Dagon would make himself Cthulhu’s prize lackey, dispensing advice and gathering his scaly spawn and their furry subspecies for his master’s fodder and food. Dagon replied that he was glad to spend his eternal life doing Cthulhu’s bidding. The best slaves, Dagon added, were shoggoths, and when Cthulhu replied in frustration that those creatures always looked immensely useful—their strength and plasticity outstripped anything It had witnessed on Its planet of origin--but continued to confound Its attempts to capture them, Dagon told It that he could procure such brainless muscle easily.

Then the second god reached out a paw and stroked Dagon, beginning with the crown of his head. To Dagon’s disappointment, Cthulhu did not stray to any lower territories, but the promise of future delights lingered in the salty air. 

**II.**  
At Dagon’s behest, Cthulhu had made the journey underwater with him. Now Dagon addressed his coterie of Deep Ones with a newfound vigor, introducing them to the alien overlord whose presence prognosticated power and pleasure that neither Dagon nor his kind had ever known.

At first, a single Deep One swam up to Cthulhu, looking It directly in the eyes. The Deep One reached with outstretched hand to Dagon’s new friend and master, as if daring itself to touch Its face, until Cthulhu gingerly touched the top of the Deep One’s head with one of Its tentacles.

Soon the rest of the Deep Ones swarmed around Cthulhu, clamoring for a tender gesture of acceptance and receiving such in swift time. By the time they had all gotten Cthulhu’s touch, they gathered around Its bulk and gesticulated on the ocean floor. Dagon thought he perceived Cthulhu’s laughter again.

For a time, the two of them persisted in a mostly blissful life. Dagon swelled with heretofore unknown purpose and drive under Cthulhu’s domination, bringing It willing slaves of human, Deep One, and shoggoth varieties as well as reports of new lands to invade; Cthulhu repaid this service with affection physical and psychic. The stimulation Cthulhu bestowed upon Dagon exceeded the light caress of their first meeting, and yet it never quite progressed to the ultimate point for which the sea god longed. When he dreamed in the night, images of his slippery body splicing with Cthulhu’s own filled his mind, and when he awoke, he felt a wave of melancholy at the dissolution of his vision.

Cthulhu’s lair at the highest point in the city of R’lyeh, where the alien conqueror’s spawn slid and squirmed and splashed among overlapping and ever-extending angles with unfettered aplomb, made a comfortable home for Dagon. At the end of the day, Cthulhu and Dagon would glut themselves upon the bodies of lower forms of sea life, and when night fell, they would both crawl into the lair, curl up beside each other, and listen to each other’s stories. Dagon loved telling Cthulhu about his lordship over the ocean and his piping creators and their organic experiments, but even more he relished Cthulhu’s tales of Its battles against the star-headed ones, of Its decaying crimson home world, and of the awful city of N’gha-G’un, surely the most decadent residence on any planet.

Every night, Cthulhu would remind Dagon of his faithfulness and expert servitude before they drifted off to sleep. Dagon would reply by expressing his fulfillment at being Cthulhu’s most favored lackey. Despite these announcements of joy in one another, Dagon felt a tinge of regret that his master would rather sleep than make the most of the night by mating with him.

 **III.**  
…until one night.

The moon hung full and pale, just as Dagon liked it. He sat on the plateau where Cthulhu’s lair rested, gazing up at the lonesome white orb that demanded attention diverted from the distant stars, when a paw began to knead his shoulder.

Without even turning around, Dagon knew that Cthulhu had grabbed him. He asked what his master meant by this gesture, and Cthulhu replied that It and the sea god were mates in all but name, and therefore it was time to consummate their partnership. 

Dagon barked his enthusiastic acquiescence. Cthulhu grabbed both of his shoulders and rolled him over, parking Its body atop Dagon’s. Lying supine and face-to-face with Cthulhu, Dagon felt his body moisten and open. The alien god raised Its upper body off of Dagon and began stroking him from the head downward.

The taste of smoky, blood-splattered flesh such as Dagon had never swallowed seeped into his mouth as the paw passed over his face. Dagon lashed out with his tongue and licked and slurped Cthulhu’s flabby fingers. This new flavor filled Dagon’s mouth with sweet saltiness of a drier sort than he was accustomed to, but its exoticism more than compensated for its lack of connection to his preferred diet. Evidently Cthulhu enjoyed the sensation It received, for It let Its fingers linger in Dagon’s maw for several moments before withdrawing them. Dagon instantly considered protesting, but the feeling of the other god’s paw creeping down his belly made him reconsider. That fire in his loins burned with greater ardor now, especially when Cthulhu slipped the curvature of a claw between two of Dagon’s scales and massaged the space with expert gingerness. This sensation tarried only briefly before Cthulhu dipped the blunt parts of Its other claws betwixt more of Its mate’s scales. Dagon writhed, knowing the pleasure would only grow stronger from there. 

The one that mounted Dagon wrapped Its tentacles around the back of his head and let a few of them slip farther down. The sucking of the back of Dagon’s neck made his scales heat up with delight, as did the same action repeated on his belly and thighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a crowd of Deep Ones and Cthulhu spawn gathering on the angles below and rocks across from the lair. If Dagon’s kind intended to watch their master receive the sexual attentions of _his_ master, then by the ocean’s fury itself, he was going to give them a performance to remember.

Then, Cthulhu must have extruded a set of tentacles Dagon had never seen on It, for there began a distinctly moist tickling between his legs that surpassed the stimulation at his body’s other end. A vibration ensued in his loins, starting out low and then rolling onward with exponential increases in intensity. Dagon reared his head back, smacking it against the soft dirt of the plateau, and roared his ecstasy as he hit the peak of his pleasure. Again and again the crest of pure physical joy slammed into him like a tidal wave crashing into a cliff, and he announced this chief of earthly—or was it celestial?—delights each time it occurred. Cthulhu’s first high point of pleasure happened mere moments afterward, judging from the bellow It emitted. 

After seconds of respite, the gods mated again, this time with Dagon superior. Cthulhu wrapped Its facial tentacles around Dagon’s head, pulling him closer to It as if to bind him tight and prevent his escape—though Dagon would not want to escape this situation. Cthulhu wound Its lower set of tentacles around and into Dagon’s loins, milking the sea god’s mating tendrils with such dexterity as Dagon had only ever imagined. Unlike last time, however, Dagon felt a new command pressed into his mind: an order to inseminate his master. Dagon had restrained himself from releasing his reproductive liquids into Cthulhu previously; it would not do to impregnate one’s overlord. But he had no choice this time. Before long, Dagon’s viscous black genetic information oozed from his mating apparatus into Cthulhu’s tentacles, where it disappeared.

In the misty, salt-scented silver afterglow of the gods’ copulation, the Deep Ones and Cthulhu spawn howled and gibbered their approval of their masters’ first sexual rites. 

Their thousands of orgasms over, the two lay basking on the plateau, not bothering to retreat into the lair. Dagon inquired of his master where and how Cthulhu gave birth. Cthulhu replied that Its body boasted multiple sacs where the seed of Its mates brewed with Its own sacred effluvium to form offspring. It could create spawn by Itself but, like most self-aware beings possessed of physical bodies, preferred sexual reproduction to the lonely method. That Dagon had offered himself to It so readily made Its own body and mind shiver with desire and glee unbecoming in one so belligerent.

Then Cthulhu said, in no uncertain terms, that It desperately wanted to give birth to more offspring to populate and dominate this new world, so that none might oppose It. Eventually, It would conquer the entire planet. With Dagon’s able aid, Cthulhu added, It knew It would not fail. 

_I will not fail you_ , thought Dagon, and he never did, even after R’lyeh sank and Cthulhu with it, even after the caprices of the stars thwarted Its later rise, even after the forces of civilization tried to destroy Cthulhu’s loyal human followers. As long as this planet revolved, Dagon would serve and love Cthulhu, no matter what opposed him.


End file.
